


on my mind

by SpicyJam



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-War, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Bottom Hunk (Voltron), For a while anyway, M/M, Master/Pet - sorta, Oral Sex, Pet Names, Public Sex, Throne Sex, Top Keith (Voltron), Topping from the Bottom, pidge/allura - mentioned, shiro/lance - mentioned, throne blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 00:50:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15473850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyJam/pseuds/SpicyJam
Summary: Hunk’s free hand comes to tug at Keith’s waistband, pulling his slacks down further. Keith hurries to push them as far as Hunk wants, and Hunk rewards him by pulling off to suck along the side, eyes fluttering open to stare at him directly.“Master.” Hunk croons, breathless and hoarse. He’d be even further along if Keith was able to do what he wanted— press Hunk against the wall of the balcony, whispering filthy things to him as he fucked into his throat until he spilled himself across his tongue.Keith doesn’t exactly express that sentiment and instead lets his head knock back against his chair with a soft,"Fuck."---It's been years after the war, and everyone settles into extremely different roles.Keith finds himself bored on his throne, and Hunk can't let that stand as hisfavoriteconcubine.





	on my mind

**Author's Note:**

> sorta maybe a dark au if u focus on it enough *fingerguns*
> 
> shiro and keith and allura are all married in whats basically a political marriage but they each have their favorite ‘lovers’. Allura > pidge, shiro > lance, keith > hunk
> 
> Didnt mean to make it all gay but here we Are

“And be sure to have our guests’ rooms prepared by the time we return.” Allura is saying, hands perfectly poised in her front. It makes her stance that much taller, her chin jut out that much more. A regally imposing figure, as she should be.

Keith has to stop from sighing, glancing out the window. They’ve landed the castle ship on a planet, one he hadn’t bothered learning about since they’d be living within two days anyway, and already he misses the blazing stars in the atmosphere.

The servants in front of them nod dutifully, eyes averted as they repeat back the instructions. Not out of fear, but undying respect.

(Mostly for Allura, of course.)

As they leave, the door is held open for Shiro to saunter in, dressed to the nines in his suited glory. He offers them tight-lipped smiles, waving off a droid that comes to offer him a drink, and starts the conversation with, “It’s crowded today.”

They’d opened the doors as a show of diplomacy and good faith, and the aliens who’d wandered in had wandered in _droves_. Part of the reason why Keith was slunking around with Allura instead of his usual haunts. All of them had been spoken for.

Allura reaches forward to pat him on the shoulder with a consolatory smile. “They’ll be gone soon, Shiro. We must be patient.”

“Patience yields focus.” Keith adds, cheeky grin and all. Shiro only rolls his eyes good-naturedly, knocking their shoulders together.

He offers his elbow to Allura, who delicately hooks her fingers in the curve of it, and Keith hurries to take up her other side. “Ready?”

“Better now than later.” She nods. At her cue, the droids putter to the doorway— the large, intricate one that led to the banquet room. Not the one Shiro had snuck in that rivaled a supply closet in size— and they get drowned in the bright light of a chandelier made of holograms and star bits.

It’s in this light that it’s easiest for them to be taken in, in all of their royal glory.

Allura is tightly wrapped in her ensemble, a deep purple dress that is more lace than not. Her sleeves are replaced by floral-engraved sheer chiffon and a strip at her waist matches it, baring the glowing Altean markings on her hips. Her dress hangs loosely from that point on, angled on one side to show a hint of her stockings and the knife that she carries on it.

Their allies _had_ mentioned they enjoy a show of arms, after all.

Shiro matches her almost perfectly. His outfit is a different color, but his sleeves are missing all the same as hers and replaced with lace that hugs him generously to show off every muscle, every vein, and every scar. His pants are darker in color, embroidered with their symbol— a mark of his status— and his shoes very faintly shine with some sort of jewel around the edges.

Keith is the odd one out. He has a simple Earth-style suit on— a dark buttoned blazer and some slacks— but Allura had easily persuaded him to allow their servants to hem color onto it. He’s bordered in red, mostly, and the back of his suit is blazened with their insignia, bright and loud.

Allura is far into her speech by the time he tunes back in, but he’s aware enough to catch, “My husbands and I are honoured to have invited you all into our home, and we do hope that you enjoy your stay.”

The ring on his right hand almost burns, and his hold must tighten because Allura reaches down to pat him on the bicep. A signal of ‘stay calm— we’re almost done.’

Keith tries not to count the minutes.

The banquet hall is separated into two floors, mostly. Balconies, where those with higher statuses dwell, and the lower levels where one could go to eat (or send their servants to get them something) and to mingle.

Allura and Shiro abandon him to scour the lower floor, unhooking themselves to find the two others they’d much rather be hooked on. Keith knew the feeling.

He easily spots Allura sneaking up on Pidge, stealing her away from a group that was interested in her robotics. He can’t help but grin as Pidge squeals in surprise as she’s lifted up into the air and spun, Allura smooching her on the cheek.

Across the room, Lance is much less surprised by Shiro, but he still gets the spin treatment. They murmur something, soft and sweet beneath the chatter of the hundreds around them, and Lance kicks his legs up in joy. They swiftly exit, off to their favorite fuck spot, but their absence is easily glossed over.

Keith sighs, leaning back in his chair. His _throne_ , actually. It was roomy, wide, and made him feel that much more lonely.

 

\---

 

Nearly an hour and a half later, Keith is interrupted from his light doze and instead is greeted with the lights dimming and changing colors to something much more dramatic as the floor is cleared. The music tells him that there must be a show about to happen, but Allura doesn’t look too alarmed sitting on the opposite balcony of him with Pidge half leaning across the banister, so he doesn’t do much more than wipe the drool from the corner of his mouth and stretch out the kink in his shoulder.

“My Lady!” One of the aliens shouts to Allura, over-exaggerated, “If I may introduce: a play in your honor— how Voltron ceased to be, and your empire reigned supreme!”

The way he says it makes Keith cringe.

Allura smiles, uncomfortable in the most acute of ways. Pidge inches closer, sliding onto her lap, and Allura hurries to nod her head. “I’m quite interested to see your interpretation.”

It’s more than they expect her to say, and they’re _delighted_ by the way they begin to scatter. The lights dim even further, and a spotlight shines on what must be the lead— dressed up in a familiar wig of black hair with a shock of white— and Keith zones out. He doesn’t see Shiro out in the crowd, but he knows he’d be amused at the show anyway.

It had been _years_ since he’d last thought of Voltron, now that Keith is thinking of it. After Lotor had gained control of the Galra empire and had effectively handed it over to Allura, Voltron was nothing more than the biggest political statement in the universe. One that she used well— to honor her parent’s and her fallen race’s legacy.

They hadn’t expected to become rulers of the galaxy, but Keith had always thought it was better them than someone less qualified.

It had been nearly ten years since then. The ‘team’ had more or less disintegrated.The head and right hand of Voltron were married off— to their ‘true’ leader, the Queen of Altea— and the rest of the team were expected to fall in line.

It was a bit uncomfortable, yes, but they’d each eventually found a role they enjoyed playing. Lance had found that, after years of war, he _deserved_ a lifetime of pampering, and fell easily into the roll of concubine.

He’d turn red in the face if he’d heard Keith say that outloud, though, and would firmly correct him with, _‘Mistress_ , Keith. I’m a _mistress!_ ’

And then Pidge would butt in with how that term wasn’t correct, considering his gender, and they would argue until Hunk would lift them up and carry them out before they got in trouble by Allura, ever plagued with meetings with diplomats.

Keith sighs thinking of him, the former yellow paladin.

He, along with Pidge, had quickly fallen into the role Lance had introduced them to as…. ‘mistresses’, and Hunk was Keith’s favorite. Everyone knew it, even if he wasn’t quite so verbal about it.

It’d been much too long since they’d last been together, though. More often than not their light banter would morph into something heavy, and their petting would lead to a bout of sex that left them breathing heavy for days.

Keith discreetly adjusts himself in his pants. Just thinking of Hunk under him, babbling in that way he does when he’s nearing orgasm. It leaves him a bit red in the face.

It takes a bout of arguing with himself, but eventually, he gives in. But, as he stands to go find his love, the play shifts paces, and the leads focus on him as he takes on Zarkon (for the first time), putting him in the spotlight. He freezes where he sits, eyes darting to Allura, but she’s distracted with Pidge’s lips on her neck.

It would be too ‘rude’ to leave, now. But an easy work around.

He sends a droid for Hunk.

And, a few moments later, it is Hunk that comes to him.

He’s draped in delicate jewelry, skin shimmering with the faint glimmer of body glitter. It paints him in the lights that bounce off of them, accenting him perfectly with every turn. His face is mostly covered by a sheer veil, but he notes the small smile Hunk offers him as the droid leads him in.

The droid fucks off with a quick wave of Keith’s hand, but they don’t speak until the door has closed completely and Hunk reaches a hand up on the keypad to lock it. He’s obviously got the same idea that Keith does, because he’s got that embarrassed blush on his face, and that coy smile on his lips. “You called for me, Master?”

And really, that name shouldn’t do anything for Keith after hearing it day in and out for years, but hearing it from _him_ makes him weak in the knees. He’s lucky he’s sitting.

The lights pull away from Keith, and they’re left in near-darkness as the play switches topics again. He doesn’t bother with that, and instead urges Hunk forward as he leans up to pull the privacy drapes in. Not enough to close them off— because that would be _rude—_ but enough that the people sitting in the general area wouldn’t see (or hear) what was about to start.

Hunk comes to his front, dwarfing Keith in size even after all these years, and easily slides to his knees. He doesn’t have to ask, already knows that Keith will give anything to him if he only asks.

He unzips him, and already Keith is hard enough that pre-cum has gathered at the tip, smearing against Hunk’s fingers as he strokes him.

His breath hitches when Hunk dives in, lips parting wide to run his tongue against the length of him, eyes shining even in the dark. He keeps one hand loosely wrapped around the base, thumb running across the vein stamped along the underside, and the other disappears between his own legs.

Keith is much more focused on his mouth. He’s taken Keith as far down as he can, what with his hand blocking nearly half the length, and has his tongue curved around the mushroom-shaped head, focusing on the line of skin between the edge and the rest. It’s sensitive there, Keith knows that he knows, and he’s incredibly lucky that his breathy moan is lost to the rest of the noise in the hall.

His hands grip tight onto the armrests of his throne, and he sinks further into the cushioned embrace it provides as Hunk pulls off for a moment to get more comfortable, pushing his veil out of the way. His lips shine with spit, puckered in his eagerness to get back to the task at hand, but Keith hurries to lean down and steal them for a kiss first.

“Hey.” He greets, soft.

Hunk snorts at him, one hand still curiously hidden between his legs, around the back instead of the front, and Keith steals another kiss before he greets him back with a gentle, “Hey, Keith.”

Then, Hunk pushes him back into his seat with a firm touch to his chest, and Keith can’t properly quip back because the spotlight is turned back to him, and he’s forced to straighten up and look like he’s actually paying attention to the play.

Hunk takes advantage. He sucks most of the length of him past his lips, nearly choking himself with it if not for the plethora of practice under his belt, and _moans_. Keith sucks in a breath through clenched teeth as the feeling vibrates through him, but that obviously displeases his lover.

Hunk does it again, taking him down to the base as he does. His free fingers trail into the unzipped fly and curl against his balls, thumbing against the perineum. Keith jolts, pressing his hand against the top of Hunk’s head to stop him, or to push him down further maybe, but Hunk shoos him off easily.

He begins a slow rhythm of following the length of him up and down, slow enough that drool slips out of the side of his mouth and leaves a thin trail on every upward pull. His hand lazily massages his sack against his palm, even trailing far enough back to just _tease_ his hole, and Keith knows he’s doomed.

The stars grace him with luck as the spotlight pulls away, focusing on some other unlucky soul, and Keith has only just gurgled out a choked, “Hunk—!” before the latter leaves him.

Hunk swipes at his eye, watery from swallowing him down so deep, and he rests his head against Keith’s thigh to focus on himself for a moment. His breath fans out against Keith’s exposed dick, hot at first before it quickly cools against the spit it’s coated in and it only gets worse when Hunk begins to moan again.

If he strains, Keith can hear the faint squelch of fingers thrusting in and out of his hole, and he nearly passes out on the spot as he realizes that Hunk must have prepped himself beforehand, with an excess of lube dripping out of himself.

He doesn’t touch— it hardly occurs to him that he _can_ — and Hunk takes his sweet time in pleasuring himself, thighs spread. His outfit, mostly a soft satiny cloth, clings to him enough that Keith can just barely see the outline of his cock, bobbing with each heartbeat as he fucks himself.

Hunk doesn’t grab it, though. Not yet. He presses a finger to his lips to shush Keith, getting one last pass across his prostate by the way he shudders, before he takes him back into his mouth.

His pace is quicker now, eager, and he takes him down to the base each time, tongue pressing past his lips to lick along whatever it can reach. It’s noisy and wet and _just for him_ in all its sinful glory.

Hunk’s free hand comes to tug at Keith’s waistband, pulling his slacks down further. Keith hurries to push them as far as Hunk wants, not all the way down, but just above his mid-thigh, and Hunk rewards him by pulling off to suck along the side, eyes fluttering open to stare at him directly.

“Master.” Hunk croons, breathless and hoarse. He’d be even further along if Keith was able to do what he wanted— press Hunk against the wall of the balcony, whispering filthy things to him as he fucked into his throat until he spilled himself across his tongue.

Keith doesn’t exactly express that sentiment and instead lets his head knock back against his chair with a soft, “ _Fuck_.”

His vision blurs as Hunk brings him closer to the edge, legs spreading wider to let him come closer, to let him do whatever he wants to him. His mouth is so warm, and he keeps doing that flicking thing with his tongue that makes Keith’s legs twitch, and—

He cums with a hoarse cry, one that must catch someone’s attention, right against Hunk’s tongue. Hunk swallows it down with an appreciative moan, pressing his face flush against Keith’s groin to make sure he gets every single drop.

It leaves him drained when Hunk pulls back with a soft pop of his lips, sitting back on his haunches. He’s still hard.

The lights pass over them again, giving Keith a moment to catch his breath. He’s lucky the balcony have such high walls, or else the entire planet would see his dick— _throbbing hard_ — hanging out of his pants. And he isn’t exactly sure if he’d mind, with how well Hunk sucked the life out of him.

Speaking of the minx, Hunk slides forward again, all teasing grin. One of his hands glistens with lube as he lifts his skirts, and Keith remembers then that the activities aren’t over. He rests against Keith’s leg, content as Keith begins to slowly comb through his updo, thoroughly ruining the work that must have gone into it.

“Not bored anymore?” Hunk asks, running his palm against the soft feel of Keith’s crumpled slacks.

And Keith, of course, replies with, “Never with you.”

Like the sap he is.

It makes Hunk happy, though, so he’d never take it back, present or future.

Hunk stands from Keith’s feet, almost uncaring as he’s brought into the light. He’s so different from when they first met, but by the way he stiffens as the spotlight lingers on them, Keith knows that he’s still the same socially-anxious kid they both used to be. And as much as he loves the idea that _everyone_ knows that Hunk is here for him and him alone, he’d rather have Hunk comfortable in privacy (and maybe blissed out after orgasm).

He distracts him by pulling him into his lap, faced away so that he can press kisses across his exposed shoulders. Hunk rests his entire weight against him, trusting after years of Keith assuring him that he could handle it, and he’s _so soft_ when Keith wraps his arms around his waist.

Only to get tutted at and pushed away. He lets out a hurt noise, mostly surprised, but Hunk soothes it with a quick caress as he spreads his legs. “We should pay attention to the play.”

Oh.

Hunk’s skirt lifts, exposing his bare bottom and all. “No touching, yeah?”

_Oh._

He is incredibly slick between the legs, enough so that it’s dripping down his thighs. He parts himself for Keith, skin shyly flushed at being so exposed, and easily presses himself against the head of his cock.

It’s dirty and so much more than a statement of ownership, and they both know it. Hunk slowly sinks down the length of it, fingers squeezing on his asscheeks to keep them well apart— to make sure Keith sees him taking every inch of it with an easy, albeit shaky, exhale.

Keith leans forward with a choked groan, forehead against Hunk’s back, and he has to clench his hands into fists to stop himself from letting them trail across Hunk’s skin and murmur praises.

He can’t bounce in Keith’s lap like this, especially since the damned spotlight has been trained on them long enough that people have started to turn to see what the fuss is, but that doesn’t stop him from grinding their hips together.

Keith growls out some sort of expletive then, thrusting forward. Hunk gasps at the feeling, but he’s put together enough that it looks like he’s just reacting to the play, leaning forward against the bannister. He grips the rail, for better leverage, and his legs come up to encase Keith on either side.

Like this, they’re squished together, and Keith has no room to move, but that’s exactly what Hunk wants.

He slowly shifts up, enough that Keith _nearly_ slips out for one unsatisfying moment, but he presses down again as the head tugs at his rim.

It’s _hell_. He’s so tight that Keith can’t help trying to bury himself in further, but he can’t do much other than roll from side to side. That helps in a way, though, because he ends up pressing against Hunk’s prostate quite by accident.

It makes him jolt forward, biting his lip, and Keith does it again. Hunk’s weight drops on him, to follow the pleasure, and the two of them create a hellish feedback loop as they try to look like they _aren’t_ fucking when it’s so incredibly obvious that they are.

Hunk lifts up too far, and Keith slips out with a wet squelch. They both groan at the loss, and, as he reaches a hand back to stroke Keith’s length a handful of times, they get bathed in near-dark again.

Thank _god_.

He palms Hunk’s hips, pulling him close enough that Hunk ends up comfortably pressed against his chest. Hunk doesn’t admonish him for breaking the ‘no-touch’ rule.

Keith basks in the feel of his thighs under his fingertips, trembling ever so slightly as he holds himself up, waiting for Keith to fuck him the way he deserves.

He presses in, holding himself from rutting in like a horny dog. He forces himself to appreciate every inch he presses in, slow enough that Hunk tosses his head back to raggedly groan, toes curling.

“Like that?” Keith huffs, lifting himself up to get as flush as he can. Pressed so close together, he can feel Hunk’s pulse pick up as he lines his teeth against his neck. They’d gotten sharper with age, it felt, but not dangerous. Not to him.

Hunk’s hands find their way to the curtains framing them, shielding them from nosy noses, and he threatens to rip them down as Keith finally begins his punishing, full-length thrusts. They rock Hunk forward, until he’s almost spilling from the throne, but Keith pulls him back by his hips and starts the cycle over before he can catch up.

It’s thrilling. He still tastes Keith’s cum on his breath whenever he can catch it, and his own dick is aching to cum, tangling in the net that was his ‘concubine dress’, as it was so often dubbed.

He almost wishes he were able to spread his legs further, but he doesn’t dare stop Keith from fucking him now. Not when his cockhead was near abusing his prostate with as much as it was pounding him.

He must moan too loud then, because Keith reaches up to cover his mouth with a strangled, “Shh, baby…”

Hunk moans louder just to tease him, but it stays muffled against Keith’s fingers. Only succeeds in making them wet, really. Not that Keith minds, with the way he leans back to get another angle.

A knock on the door startles them both, and Hunk freezes like a doe caught in an open field. Keith sucks on his neck, too irresistible not too, until Hunk’s passage tightens and they begin to move again.

“ _What?_ ” Keith barks, sounding as fucked out as he feels. Just that single word is pitchy and hoarse, enough that Hunk feels a throb of arousal course through him all over again.

With a smug grin, he tilts back to steal Keith’s lips as his own, meeting him first open-mouthed, then with tongue. It’s an embarrassingly noisy kiss, nearly drowning out the droid at the door as it informs them that Keith’s presence is required to say a few words after the play ends.

Keith eyes roll into the back of his head— out of irritation or pleasure, Hunk isn’t quite sure— but he doesn’t respond to the request for a while. His hand curls around Hunk’s neck, keeping his head back until it’s pressed against Keith’s shoulder, and his other abandons its post at his hip to instead stroke off his lover.

“Sir?” The droid asks, impassive as robots can be when their owners are having a fuckfest not fifteen feet away.

Hunk is pressed forward with an urgent touch, until he’s shoved against the banister and off of the throne. Keith stands then, leaning over his back, and he grabs one of Hunk’s hands to shut the drapes fully— uncaring of etiquette now. It completely cuts off their light source, other than a faint strip of blue in the two corners of the curved room, but Keith has long since memorized Hunk’s body, inside and out.

He fucks Hunk hard, until their skin slaps together even past the thin layers they still wore on their legs, and Hunk lets himself moan out loud, just for Keith.

“I’m so close.” He says— begs. “Please, hun.” Keith bites him for the pet name, hard enough that it’ll probably bruise around the edges. Hunk likes the dull sting.

He pushes the limits, next. Hunk throws his head back, catching Keith’s wrist between thrusts, and, when their eyes meet, moans out, “Fuck me, master.”

It’s no surprise to him when Keith’s pace picks up, spurred by the title. He wouldn’t be able to get another word in with how easily Keith fucks them out of him, but he didn’t need them now that the game was set.

Keith lifts one of Hunk’s legs, firmly planting it on the rail. It pulls a soft yelp from the other that morphs into a surprised moan as the angle and pace changes yet again. Their hips roll together, and Keith controls it enough that he more or less fucks Hunk into fucking his palm, wrapped tight around the length of him.

“Sir?” The robot asks again, in that same tone. Keith snarls, pace faltering at the distraction.

“Later!” He snaps, both his teeth and his hips forward. “ _Fucking—_ go away!”

Hunk’s forehead knocks against the smooth finish of the banister as he collapses. From the corner of his eyes he can see Keith loosen his tie with a quick, angry motion and, with that same move, shove hair away from his forehead, slicked back with leftover gel and his own sweat.

He cums, loud and sudden. Keith is belated in quieting him, head thrown back as he follows Hunk to his climax, and the two of them grind together until they’ve drained every spurt they can from the other.

A tingly feeling washes from his head to his toes as Hunk collapses against the balcony rail, foot slipping off to instead support his full weight on shaky calves. He stays bent over, with Keith’s softening cock deep in his gut, and so does Keith.

They catch their breath, hardly listening to the end of the play’s dramatic conclusion.

Keith ends up accidentally ripping Hunk’s outfit as he pulls them back into the wide throne, nails caught on the fragile lace. His wide-eyed look makes Hunk laugh, tired and satisfied, and he lets Keith give him a apologetic kiss all across his cheeks.

He’s sitting on Keith’s lap again, face to face this time, and he steals Keith’s wide shoulders to steady himself as he slowly sits up, pulling the cock free from his hole. It leaves him gaping, it feels, and more cum than he expect spills out after it, coating them both in its stickiness.

“Whoops.” Hunk clenches down, flustered red again. “Sorry, sugar-pea.”

Keith melts, cupping his hands around Hunk’s jaw to kiss him.

The mess would be impossible to clean, but Keith, frankly, doesn’t give the faintest shit. He leans back against the throne, eyes shutting, and tugs Hunk in for a cuddle until his duties call again.

He makes a mental note to have Hunk visit him on the throne more often.

**Author's Note:**

> check out my [NSFW blog](http://lewdjam.tumblr.com/) here!


End file.
